Friendship's Spring
by Annalyn
Summary: Legolas and Arwen meet for the first time when they are but 10 years old, both have a few lessons to learn...chapter 7 is up! :)
1. Tapestries by Torchlight

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Tolkien's characters. (But you probably guessed that already).  
  
Author's Note: I don't know if the book ever specifically says if Legolas and Arwen are friends but I think they are and this is my perception of how they might have met. (Oh, and for those that have read this before you may notice that it's changed somewhat. I had a bit of computer trouble and was going to delete it and then repost it because the spacing wasn't working but I soon discovered that I hadn't saved the first chapter and was forced to rewrite it. :'( Sorry if you liked the other one better I tried my best to remember it.)  
  
The young elf skidded around the corner and managed to quickly slide himself behind an intricately patterned vase. He held his breath as the footsteps came closer and closer, louder and louder they thumped toward him. Normally, elves wouldn't walk so noisily but Legolas knew only too well that extremely angry and irritated nurse maids, did. He screwed his eyes shut and clenched his fists just as a furious-looking she-elf came stomping around the corner. She barreled past him as if she was on the war path and did not even bother to notice him in her fury. After he had made completely sure she was gone, (and that she wasn't coming back) the young prince cautiously stepped out from behind the vase. He couldn't help but giggle. Illithien always looked so funny when her face turned bright red and that right temple began to throb.  
  
As quietly as he could, (he did not want Illithien to come back) he began to make his way down the stone hallway. He wasn't quite sure where he was going, just anywhere that was away from Illithien. She seemed to think that Legolas was forever plotting against her, (which wasn't entirely true) and was quick to anger, especially when it came to dealing with him. Legolas sighed and turned down one of the many corridors that branched off of the grand passage. He became frustrated as he sorted through his thoughts. He grew tired of sitting day after day in the stone palace, learning about past wars and past heroes that were so brave and adventurous. He wanted to be a warrior himself and go on bold adventures that all the other children would learn about. However, he had never been on any adventures, he had not even come close. In fact, the only time he ever left the king's courtyards was when they allowed him to go on short hunting trips with the elders, which wasn't very often. All he did was sit in the cave, (it was almost too magnificent to be called a cave) that was his home and learn about past events and of the exciting lands that lay to the south that to him seemed so distant they were practically unreachable.  
  
Turning down a smaller, narrower passage he continued to walk. Just then, a glimmer of colour shone out of the corner of his eye. He turned and there before him hung a large, complex tapestry. He looked at it closer and found it odd that though he had lived here for all his ten years, he had never really noticed such a think before. Legolas stared up at it in awe and stepped back to study it. It told the story of the great war that had taken place before Legolas was born, and of the fall of Sauron. Pictures of brave warriors, of men and of elves, danced before his eyes. They all looked courageous and unafraid as they braced themselves for the onslaught of evil, vicious looking monsters that charged toward them. In a trance, Legolas sauntered down the hall, completely infatuated with the swirl of colours that lay stretched out before his eyes. The soldiers fought their hideous enemies with bows bent and swords drawn, their silver armour shone in the dim torch light that reflected off the silky material. It was a horrible and frightening sight, but somehow Legolas found it magnificent and he was drawn to it, to the detail that was put into it and to the burst of colours that hit him. Elves and men fought orcs and trolls alongside each other, jet black was the ground they stood firmly on and red was the blood that was spilled upon it. Then the young prince came to the very end of the illustration and there, towering before him, stood the dark Lord Sauron. He was evil and fierce looking with a gold ring that shone bright upon his finger. He loomed over a terrified looking man, and Legolas felt very small indeed.  
  
"He is frightening, is he not?" came a deep and powerful voice from behind him. Legolas turned and faced his father who came toward him, his deep, green robes sweeping out behind him and on his head was a crown of ivy leaves, for it was spring again. "Illithien is not very happy with you, my son." The prince turned and looked his father in the eye. He found it of odd that he should be afraid of beautiful and, (normally) gentle Illithien, but not of his proud and powerful father.  
  
"I know, father, and I apologize," he replied. Thranduil was very proud that his son was not a coward and accepted what he had done, but now was certainly not the time for praise.  
  
"Do not apologize to me, Legolas," he continued, "apologize to Illithien. I am happy that you are taking your archery classes seriously but using her vases as targets are no way to practise." At this the young elf faltered.  
  
"I thought they were old and broken ones, Father, I really did!" The king sighed and beckoned his son over to a section of the tapestry. Legolas followed and looked up at the image his father was gesturing to. It showed an elvish warrior whose face was grim set, yet unafraid. His sword shone in the torch light as he faced the oncoming enemy and in his eyes there lay a fierceness Legolas did not yet understand.  
  
"That is a warrior," Thranduil said, "you cannot hide it from me that that is what you wish to become. I am proud that you carry such noble dreams but you have no hope of becoming that man in the picture unless you understand his ways. A warrior only kills if it is necessary and still he tries to avoid it at all costs, for he would rather be a peace keeper than a war hero. He is kind, he is gentle," he paused, "and he has respect." At these last words Legolas' firm gaze failed and he stared at the ground. His father bent to match his small son's eye level. "You have not shown Illithien respect, Legolas. I know it's hard sometimes but that is what a warrior must do. I know you can do it and now you have a chance to prove it." The prince looked up and met his father's piercing, blue eyes with his own. He gave him a quizzical look. "Lord Elrond is coming to visit within the next week and he is bringing his daughter, Arwen. She is the same age as you and has never been this far east before. I'd like you to show her around and make sure her stay is enjoyable. Perhaps this is your first step to becoming a warrior." The king rose and added, "now, go to your chambers and wait until you are told otherwise. I will deal with your punishment later." Legolas bowed slightly and left his father. He was glad that his father thought he could become a warrior, but he was disappointed that that meant he had to look after some girl he had never met. Not even his father had met her before but he had heard from the kingdom's messengers that traveled back and forth between Rivendell and Mirkwood that she was very fair, almost as lovely as Lady Galadriel herself. Legolas, however, didn't care how beautiful she was, and he was not looking forward to her visit. 


	2. A Lesson in Manners?

DISCLAIMER: I still do not own any of Tolkien's characters (surprise, surprise.)  
  
Author's note: As you've probably noticed, the last chapter was written from Legolas' point of view. However, I feel the need to add Arwen's as well so just keep in mind that I will alternate between the two. (Ex.) every other chapter will be from Arwen's point of view and the others will be from Legolas'.  
  
It had been three weeks since they'd left Rivendell. At first, all Arwen could think about was the journey, and going to someplace that was exciting and far away. However, now all she could think about was how sore her bottom was getting. She had never been away from Rivendell nor had she rode a horse for this long before.  
  
"If we do not rest soon," she thought inwardly, "I shall get off my horse and run beside it! Oh, how my bottom hurts!" Just as she was seriously considering doing just that, her father, Lord Elrond of Rivendell, dropped back behind the others to come and ride beside her.  
  
"Having problems, my dear?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," she replied dryly, "I am extremely uncomfortable and I am growing tired. When will we arrive?"  
  
"Soon, soon, Arwen, you needn't worry much longer," her father laughed, "We have almost reached the forest and it is a week's journey from its border to the king's dwelling." Arwen slumped and released an exaggerated sigh.  
  
"A week? I do not believe I will last that long. I shall surely fall off my horse and break my neck before we get there!"  
  
"Do not fret, melamin*," the lord laughed, "I shall not allow any harm to come to you. However, there are other matters I came to speak with you about." Arwen turned and smiled mischeiviously at her father.  
  
"There always are," she replied. Her father smirked and continued.  
  
"King Thranduil has a son, Legolas I believe his name is. He is the same age as you are and he will be taking care of you and showing you around while we're there. I would appreciate it if..."  
  
"I can take care of myself!" the young girl snapped, "I don't need a snooty prince boy to do it for me!"  
  
"Arwen, please!" her father begged, "just don't be stubborn, (if you can help it) I know that you can look after yourself but we've really got to respect the king's wishes while we are there."  
  
"The king's wishes? Why would the king desire his son to take care of me?" she inquired, (rather insulted that both her father and this King Thranduil did not believe she could take care of herself).  
  
"The prince needs some lessons in manners," Elrond continued, "and you could use some too. This might just be the perfect opportunity to learn some! Just please cooperate!" Not bothering to let her answer he left her side and returned to his position at the front of the long procession. Miffed at what, to her, seemed like a silly idea that she had to go along with anyway, she sat brooding on the back of her horse.  
  
"I need a lesson in manners, do I? Well, if that's the case then I don't see what two people who supposedly have no manners can learn from each other," she thought, "I do not wish to have the company of some rude, stuck-up prince and I definitely do not want a lesson in manners. Especially from him!" As she sat fuming her two older brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, twins of twenty years, rode up beside her.  
  
"Come, come now, sister," Elladan teased, "what is wrong this time? Is father not allowing you to make garlands of flowers for all the horses?"  
  
"Or worse yet," Elrohir taunted further and held his nose, "is he making you bathe?"  
  
"Oh be silent, you half-witted idiots," she snapped back, "just because I made a garland for my horse so she could be even more beautiful than she already is, (more so than your ugly excuses for horses, anyway) does not mean that you have to taunt me." At this her brothers laughed even harder.  
  
"Well in that case I don't think your so-called garland did its job. I thought that garlands were supposed to stay on, not fall onto the ground for your horse to eat," Elrohir replied.  
  
"all right, so it didn't work that well. At least I tried, unlike you lazy slugs who don't try to do anything." Her brothers snorted and answered,  
  
"Takes one to know one." That did it.  
  
"Oooooooh! I hate you both!" she screamed and leapt right off her horse and onto Elrohir, knocking him off his own. Elrond heard the commotion and turned back. He found Arwen sitting on Elrohir pounding him as hard as she could with her little fists. Elrohir was covering his head with his arms and he was barely managing to gasp out,  
  
"Get her off me!" between stifled laughter.  
  
"ARWEN!" Lord Elrond shouted, his deep, powerful voice reverberated off the surrounding hills. Arwen stopped in her tracks and looked up fearfully at her father.  
  
"But, Father! They were teasing me for no reason at all! They, they..."  
  
"That does not give you the excuse to viciously attack them! Now, get off your brother!" Arwen shot one last look of loathing at Elrohir and got back on her horse. Her brother rose and dusted himself off, trying his best not to laugh, (Arwen was strong yes, but her fists were small and did not do that much damage). He turned and began to walk back toward his horse who had begun to graze by the roadside.  
  
"And as for you!" his father added. Elrohir hesitated. "Apologize to your sister immediately and stay away from her for the rest of the way," he shot a warning glance at Elladan, causing the smirk that was on his face to vanish, "that goes for both of you." He turned and looked Arwen straight in the eyes and said, "a lesson in manners?" She looked away.  
  
After her father had yet again resumed his position at the front of the line and all the other elves that accompanied them had stopped staring, Arwen clenched her fists and thought,  
  
"A lesson in manners, indeed! If anyone needs manners it is certainly my brothers!" She looked away across the rolling plains and to the misty hills beyond and she sighed, wishing, dreaming that perhaps one day she herself would travel to far off lands, not somewhere where she would have to be entertained for weeks by some small prince boy. Tears of longing welled up in her eyes as she dreamed of these adventures she so desired, and she was saddened that she had no one to share these dreams with. She had no mother, she disliked her brothers, she was too quick to anger to have any friends, and her father was far too busy to bother with all of her impractical dreams. She gazed up at the clouds that blew swiftly across the sky at unreachable heights.  
  
"Oh, how I wish I could fly up there along with you!" she whispered up to them, but they blew away with the cool, spring breeze as quickly as they had come, and they left her behind.  
  
*Melamin-my beloved 


	3. Arrival

DISCLAIMER: I still do not own Tolkien's characters! (Betcha didn't see that comin'!)  
  
Author's Note: Hey all! Thanks for the reviews! Now that I finally figured out how to use this thing, perhaps there won't be any further problems, (at least, I hope not) Happy reading! ^.^  
  
The young prince now sat awaiting his father in his chamber. He was growing increasingly bored, not to mention increasingly hungry. A thrush stirred outside his window, and softly he approached it. It cocked it's small head toward him and looked strangely at him, attempting to determine exactly what he was. The young prince cautiously extended his hand and, hesitantly, the bird hopped onto it. Legolas brought it to eye level and spoke softly to it. The thrush stared more intently at him than ever now, he was listening closely. Elves are very in tune with nature, and they share a close relationship with many of the woodland creatures that they share the world with. Legolas, of course, was too young to fully understand this bond. Something stirred behind the prince and the thrush, startled, swiftly flew off high into the trees. Legolas watched it ascend and wished that he could fly away like that, especially now as he only knew too well that his father now stood behind him.  
  
Legolas turned and faced the king, then his attention was drawn towards the large, wooden box which his father held. Thranduil smiled noticing the boy's intrigue in the object and he beckoned the prince over to him as set the box on Legolas' bed. "This was a very dear gift to me, my son," he told the boy as he slowly undid the gold clasps that held the box shut, "I hope that I will be able to pass it on to you some day." Legolas stared with growing curiosity as his father slowly opened the lid and there, lying on a red, silken pillow was a beautiful coat of mail. It was wrought of silver- steel, which the elves called mithril, and with it went a shining belt of pearls and crystals.** Legolas' eyes grew wide with amazement and he wondered at the beauty of this coat that might someday be his.  
  
"You like it, Legolas?" his father's deep, melodious voice snapped him out of his trance.  
  
"Yes, father," the boy replied, "very much. When may I have it?" Thranduil laughed at the boy's eagerness for such a prize.  
  
"You may have it when you are ready."  
  
"When is that, Father? When?" the prince eagerly inquired. He was anxious to have something of his own that was so warrior-like.  
  
"You may have it when you have demonstrated that you have the respect equal to that of a warrior. If you can prove to me that you can be courteous and helpful to little Arwen when she comes, I will give you this gift that my father gave me so very long ago." Legolas was beaming now. Taking care of Arwen would be easier than all the other punishments he'd received before, and this time he'd get a prize for doing it! Perhaps this whole ordeal would turn out better than he'd thought. "Also," his father added and Legolas' heart sank, "you will help Illithien wash all her jars and vases that you haven't yet broken and then you will clean up the mess you made while breaking the ones you did." Legolas looked at his feet and tried to look disappointed. His father fell for it. "I expect you in the dining hall for dinner on time." With that his father closed the box and left with it. Legolas smiled inwardly. Cleaning up bits of glass wasn't hard, though washing jars and vases was, especially when he was about the same size as them.  
  
"Oh well," he thought, "at least there are only two left."  
  
~*~ Several days later...  
  
Arwen did not like this forest, not one bit. It was dark and evil looking. Unnaturally dark green moss hung from massive trees that seemed to constantly close in on her. It was also very stuffy and very warm, she did not feel a breath of fresh air the entire time she was there and this cause her great discomfort. So much discomfort, in fact, that she nearly forgot about how sore her bottom was. Kicking the sides of her horse she urged it forward up beside her father.  
  
"How much longer?" she huffed. Elrond laughed.  
  
"Not long, not long, my sweet," he replied, "are you getting impatient?"  
  
"Well, yes I am. I wish I could get out of this accursed forest! It is so, well, eerie," the young girl replied, her violet eyes flitted over the shadowy mass that lay before her.  
  
"Yes it is," the Lord replied, "however, you needn't wait much longer. We shall arrive at the king's palace within the hour." Arwen was surprised at this that no one had told her. She was surprised, yes, but also extremely relieved. She wasn't sure how much more punishment her bottom could take and being in this dark, dank forest made her feel claustrophobic. She couldn't wait to get out into the fresh air.  
  
Their trip through Mirkwood had been basically uneventful, which was very fortunate for many evil things lived in those woods. Giant spiders and enchanted streams that, if you were touched by its' waters, would make you fall into a deep sleep from which you would not awake from for many days. Orcs and goblins sometimes came down from the mountains and roamed the woods and, well, goodness knows what else. However, despite all these dangers the company had been left alone and besides a bit of claustrophobia, all were well. One has to take into consideration, however, the fact that they were all elves who are very experienced swordsmen for the most part, (being immortal and all) and this fact is known by all, even goblins and orcs and giant spiders. Halfway through their journey they had come to the enchanted streamlet but had crossed it with ease, as the King Thranduil had sent a dozen of his guards to meet them there and help them across. They had brought a boat, light to carry though long enough to fit a dozen people at once, and had taken the host of Rivendell across within half an hour.  
  
These elves now traveled with them and Arwen studied them closely. They were a little different than the Rivendell elves. All of them were a golden blond and many of them had deep blue eyes whereas the elves Arwen was used to had dark hair, (hers was almost black) and violet or grey eyes. They sang most of the way there and lightened the mood of many of the others that had been travelling for quite some time, including Arwen.  
  
"It is most likely because they are used to this place that their hearts are glad enough to sing," thought Arwen. Now, however, her thoughts turned toward the destination. What would King Thranduil be like? Or more importantly, what would his son, Prince Legolas, be like? He, after all, was the one whom she would be with through the better part of her stay. She desperately hoped he was a nice boy, though, perhaps she was lying to herself when she thought this, which was more the wish of her father than anyone else. I am sure that if she had questioned herself more thoroughly and thought about it harder, she would have realized that she, in fact, secretly hoped he was slightly mischievous, like her, and that he was a dreamer, also not unlike her. Then maybe, just maybe, he'd understand her the way no one else did.  
  
Now they came over a crest of a hill and the great grey trees gave way to a long, thin bridge. It led to a great cave that had massive stone doors around which lay huts where many of the Wood elves dwelt. If Arwen had looked closely above her and into the trees, she would have seen that there, too, elves were living in makeshift homes among the branches. The company crossed the bridge in single file and made their way to the palace gates. A watchman who was standing nearby called something to another elf standing inside of the gate who now hurried inside. Within minutes great excitement had arose throughout the kingdom and the gates were opened and Arwen passed in them with the others. They all dismounted and their horses were led away to the stables. She gazed with awe at the massive interior of the cave as they entered through its' great doors. She found that it was not so dark and scary the way she had envisioned it to be. She scanned the faces of the many watching people. Most of them were blond-haired and blue-eyed and very fair. Looking up she saw King Thranduil awaiting them in front of the many others. He was a tall, proud and noble looking elf, very kingly indeed. He wore a crown of ivy leaves and a robe of silver and green. Arwen found him a little intimidating at first, but when they drew closer and she could look into his deep, sky blue eyes she found kindness and a deep wisdom within them, a kind that not even she understood. Her attention was then drawn toward a small boy who was standing beside the king. He was very blond and his eyes were a piercing ice blue, not at all like the king's. Many of the elves had blue eyes here yet this boys' stood out. They were very striking and they were the first thing Arwen noticed about him. He was fair of skin and wore a tunic of deep green, pinned with a silver brooch in the shape of an ivy leaf at the collar. The king approached them and brought this boy with him. He smiled and said to Lord Elrond and to Arwen (who was now standing next to her father),  
  
"This, my lord, is my son, Prince Legolas."  
  
**Check out pg. 222 of The Hobbit! 


	4. First Meeting

First Meeting  
  
Their footsteps echoed down the halls amid the awkward silence. Legolas had never had entertain a girl his age before, especially one that seemed so stuck up. He glanced over at her. She had dark, almost black hair and soft, violet eyes. She held her head so tall and proud it looked as though she were attempting to grow taller than he. He didn't like her, and he was stuck with her for a whole month.  
  
"Oh what a joy she will be," the boy thought sarcastically, "almost as fun as getting captured and eaten up by spiders!" They passed through the dark, torch-lit hall and began up the long flight of stairs to the guestrooms and still not a word had passed between them. Legolas was growing restless. How could he possibly stand four whole weeks of silence? He had to say something or he'd go mad.  
  
He looked over at her again. She still looked the same. She still had the same emotionless expression, same light, graceful walk.the same snotty- like aura. What should he say to her? "What a nice dress you have!" "My you're looking lovely today!" Those were the kinds of things he'd heard his father say to other she-elves that were in the palace. Well, she WAS lovely and she DID have a nice dress but there was no way he was going to tell her that and let her get the better of him. No, complimenting her would only make her think she was better than him, and if she already thought that (which was more than likely) that would only make matters worse. He'd have to start with something simple that had nothing to do with her. But what?  
  
*****  
  
Arwen walked briskly beside the young prince. She was growing tired of the silence. The air was so tense you could cut it with a knife. She wished he'd say something, anything. She didn't want to start the conversation and make this snobbish prince-boy think that she wanted to talk to him, like it was an honour to even speak with him. However, she wasn't sure how long she could stand this silence either. She stole a glance in his direction. He had golden blond hair and he walked silently beside her, his eyes pointed straight ahead, as though he weren't really focused on anything, as though he were, elsewhere. He had amazing eyes, piercing blue like the sky on a winter's morn. However, she didn't care how beautiful his eyes were, he still seemed stuck up and she didn't like him.  
  
"Though," she admitted to herself, "I should probably get to know him. After all, I'm stuck with him for the next month. The conversation has got to start somewhere." She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing really came out. What do I say?  
  
"I trust your trip was enjoyable?" a soft voice spoke. Startled to see that the prince would even speak to her she turned, rather abruptly, and answered,  
  
"Oh yes, it was quite enjoyable. Or at least it would have been if my brothers had stayed home." She added rather clumsily at the end. Legolas chuckled beside her.  
  
"I see. Yes, I have no siblings. Sometimes I wish I did though. I get so lonely. I want a brother to spend time with." Arwen looked over at him. She felt sorry for him, well, almost. She still thought he was stuck up.  
  
"Oh, well, don't feel so sorry for yourself. Brothers are a pain and I would know."  
  
"Do you dislike your brothers?" he asked.  
  
"Yes. On the way here they were taunting me and made me very angry. Really, they act like animals!"  
  
"What did you do?" the young prince pressed on. She blushed.  
  
"Well, I leapt onto my brother, Elrohir, and taught him a lesson in manners!" she answered triumphantly.  
  
"You attacked him?" Legolas asked, amazed that such a light, delicate girl would attack anything.  
  
"Yes," she answered, obviously proud of herself. The prince couldn't help himself. He burst out laughing at the thought of Arwen viciously attacking her older, fifteen year-old brother.  
  
"What's so funny?" Arwen snapped. Legolas stopped laughing and tried his best (to no avail) to look dignified and regain his composure.  
  
"And you call them animals!" Legolas laughed. He immediately regretted it.  
  
"You would dare to call me an animal? You-you insolent, rude, arrogant." she fought to think up more insults. Legolas thought that it would be hilarious if he started helping her think up more offensive words for himself, but he didn't want to push his luck anymore than he already had, (which was pretty far).  
  
"Er, that's not what I meant! It's just that, I-I didn't think that you would be the type to lose control like that."  
  
"I did not lose control! I was merely teaching my brothers a lesson! (One that they fully deserved, I might add)," the now-sharp voice protested.  
  
"I'm sorry, my lady," Legolas replied, cynically, angry at this short- tempered girl, "I did not realize that leaping from your horse and landing clumsily on top of your brother to pound him with your fists was any kind of fighting technique." Arwen stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. Who did this stuck-up prince think he was, anyway?  
  
"Kindly take me to my room, your highness," she shouted, her eyes flaming, "and stop with your rude, incessant comments!" Legolas smiled mockingly and gestured toward a large oak door that now stood beside them. The prince found himself more grateful than he had ever been that they had reached her room.  
  
"Here is your chamber, my lady," he mocked her sarcastically, bowing as he gestured for her to enter her room, "I hope you enjoy it." He didn't mean that.  
  
"It's a little too late for that!" she snapped loudly, "and it's all because you're here, Legolas Greenleaf! I hope I die before I must spend another second here!"  
  
"I doubt very much that anyone would mind," Legolas muttered under his breath.  
  
"What did you just say?" she demanded.  
  
"Nothing! Nothing at all, my lady," he lied.  
  
"Good! A boy like you doesn't deserve to speak!" With that, she turned on her heel and, face burning with rage, stomped into her chamber. After the door had slammed behind her his mouth curved into a smile, and as he wandered back down the hall, it turned into a laugh.  
  
"I think that went well," he thought aloud, and he meant it. 


	5. When Questioning Oneself

Chapter 5  
  
SMASH! The vase splintered into a thousand pieces as it struck the wall. The Lady Arwen was fuming, and her temper was not one to be taken lightly.  
  
"How dare he speak to me that way!" she shouted to the air. She snatched the next nearest vase off the side table and gripped it tightly; her rage delivered strength to her fingertips. She hurtled it through the air where it smashed right beside the doorframe. She immediately regretted that. Her father had appeared in the doorway and was not looking very happy. She quickly looked at the floor, her face still burning red (now from shame and embarrassment rather than anger). The silence was awkward, the air tense, and when she chanced a glance at her father she saw in his face an anger that made his eyes smolder. She looked away.  
  
"I am continually patient with you, Arwen," he spoke, his voice dangerously soft and low, "and yet you continually disappoint me." He walked closer and Arwen's heart beat rapidly. She knew he wouldn't harm her, and yet she was afraid. "How could you treat Prince Legolas so? How could you let your temper run away with you when we are guests in this place?"  
  
"But Father! I didn't! He.he.taunted me!"  
  
"No more excuses, Arwen!" The Lord raised his voice, which he rarely did. He was also losing his patience with this short-tempered child, which was even rarer. "You have disrespected the royal family that welcomed us into their kingdom, you have dishonoured the name of your house and your family, and you have dishonoured yourself. I am disappointed in you, my daughter." Arwen looked at her toes in shame.  
  
Then she thought, "this wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault, it wasn't my fault." That was the message she told herself over and over again. That was the message she'd always told herself over and over again.  
  
"But it wasn't my fault!" she cried aloud suddenly, tears of anger welled up in her violet eyes.  
  
"I am tired of hearing the same excuse!" Elrond shouted, just as suddenly, "you must take responsibility for your actions! You must learn to accept your own mistakes and the mistakes of others! You cannot possibly learn anything else of value until you pass this one lesson!" Arwen looked up at her father in fear. He rarely ever shouted. In fact, she had only heard him shout once, and that had been at her brothers. His voice softened at the look of fright that lay upon his daughter's face, but he did not regret what he had just done. He seated himself on the bed. "First, you will clean up this mess. Then, you will go and personally apologize to Prince Legolas for disrespecting him, and then to King Thranduil for disrespecting his." he paused, looking at the shattered glass, ".property." Arwen's heart sank. This would be humiliating. She had no desire to humble herself in front of the rudest boy she'd ever met, though she dare not say so.  
  
Her father got up to leave. The punishment he'd bestowed upon her may not seem like much to you or I, but Elrond knew that Arwen's greatest weakness was her pride, which resulted in her explosive temper. He knew that humbling herself in any way to anyone was hard for her, let alone a prince whom she had no use for and whom she believed had wronged her.  
  
He turned and paused before he left saying, "all through our lives we meet people we may not be particularly fond of. However, we still must learn to accept these people and treat them respectfully even if you don't take to them very well. Think about this, daughter." With that, he turned and left the room.  
  
Arwen bent to pick up the glass. She thought of her father's words. She didn't like to admit that others were right when she was wrong. And though she would not admit it to herself or anyone else, she knew that her father had been right when he spoke those words. She knew it deep inside her heart, somehow, she'd always known.  
  
She made a neat pile of coloured glass shards on her bed. She heard Legolas' words echo inside her head and the more she thought about it, the fewer faults she could find within them. Perhaps he was a little impulsive and perhaps he did not have the best manners but then, she too was guilty of these qualities. Perhaps her temper had run away with her and maybe she shouldn't have been so angry with him. And perhaps we are being a little too generous in saying that she admitted all this to herself for I assure you, she did not. However, she did question herself somewhat. One gets to thinking about a lot of different things, when the only activity in progress is picking up tiny pieces of coloured glass. 


	6. Misfire

Chapter 6  
  
**DISCLAIMER: I am sorry that I've forgotten to add this in for the past, oh, TWO CHAPTERS! Oops.. my bad. Sorry everyone let's set the record straight: I do not own any of Tolkien's characters and I am not, in any way, making a profit off this story.(hahaha I wish).  
  
TWANG! The arrow flew swift and true through the air hitting the target dead on. This time he wasn't using Illithien's vases as targets and he was sure that this time he wouldn't get in trouble. Everyone else used the old hay bales that came from Lake Town for target practice. There was no way he'd get into trouble this time, absolutely no way.TWANG! He winced as his misfired shot landed with a loud THUNK into one of his father's few intricately carved wooden statues. The king had received them as a gift from the elves of Lothlorien to his kingdom as a symbol of friendship. The arrow was now embedded firmly in the statue's forehead. It looked funny that way, he thought, but he didn't laugh when he thought about the hole it would leave when he yanked it out. Perhaps the royal courtyard hadn't been the best place to practice archery.  
  
He slumped down onto the ground not wanting to shoot arrows around anymore. He fiddled with the moss that grew so thickly beneath him, purposely avoiding looking at the statue. Arwen's words were still echoing through his head. He had laughed at the situation and, though he truly did find it funny, he knew that one of the reasons he did that was to make it seem less than it was. He didn't think that her taking a fit was such a big deal, but he knew his father would and that was what he dreaded. Though he did not want to admit it, he knew that he had been disrespectful toward Arwen, just as he had been toward Illithien, and that that could mean his privilege to wear the beautiful coat of mail may be taken away from him. He sighed sadly at the thought.  
  
"Having troubles, my son?" a soft and deep voice asked from behind him. Legolas stood and looked up at his father.  
  
"Oh, er, no I believe I am fine," the boy replied awkwardly, "or.at least as fine as I can be I suppose," he dropped the last remark clumsily onto the end just so that he wouldn't be outwardly lying to his father.  
  
"I should hope you are not fine after what you said today," his father said, half-accusingly. Legolas' face flushed slightly pink. He knew. "The Lord Elrond has informed me of his daughter's." his father paused, searching his mind for the appropriate word, ".feelings toward you right now." He turned and looked into his son's icy blue eyes. "They are not good."  
  
"Father," the prince began, "the girl has an incredible temper. It is impossible to hold a conversation without making her angry with you! It's as though she is forever on the verge of.of.exploding!" The king held up a hand to silence his son. Legolas was growing angry.  
  
"I know of the Lady's temper but that is simply another obstacle you must overcome when dealing with people you may not be particularly fond of," Thranduil said, his voice rich and soft, "just have patience, my young prince, and things will turn out fine." Inside of himself the king was laughing. Legolas? Have patience? That was as unlikely as Legolas going through a day without breaking something. However, he did believe in his son and he did not want this mishap to dash the prince's hopes.  
  
He kneeled down to be eye-level with his son. "I'm not really angry with you, Legolas," he said softly, "I know now that Arwen can be difficult. The Lord Elrond even said so." Legolas inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. "I just think that, well," his father continued, "that you could've handled the situation a bit better. Not calling her an animal might be a good idea next time." Legolas raised his eyes from being fixed on the ground to being fixed on his father's face. It was soft and laughing, not angry at all. For this Legolas was grateful.  
  
"I believe you can do this, Legolas," King Thranduil went on, "I believe that you truly do deserve that coat of mail. Now all you have to do is prove that to me. That should be easy for a warrior such as yourself, right?" Legolas nodded and held his head a little higher. His father had called him a warrior, and he felt proud.  
  
The king's mouth then turned up into a slight smile and he started to laugh softly. Legolas stood perplexed for a moment and looked at his father questioningly. When the king had gathered himself he placed both hands on his son's shoulders and looked into the young elf's softly featured face.  
  
"Now then," he said smiling, "is that an arrow in my statue's forehead?"  
  
**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, there's chapter 6. What did you think? I've noticed that a lot of authors on fanfic. tend to portray Thranduil as an almost abusive father, (not all, but a few anyway) I wanted to portray him more as a dad, you know? Please tell me, in your opinion, if I accomplished that, as that was one of my 'goals' I guess you could say, for this story. 


	7. Apology?

Chapter 7  
  
*DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Tolkien's characters and am not, in any way, making money off of this story. There, any other bad news I can report?  
  
Legolas lay on his bed. A large, dusty book lay open in front of him. It was a book out of the king's library and it told the story of the Great War that occurred when Sauron tried to over-throw Middle Earth. Legolas had read it dozens of times before, but he loved it so much he would read it dozens more. A soft knock sounded at his door. He turned for a moment before simply saying, "Enter." He then turned his back on the visitor and went back to his book.  
  
Arwen stepped quietly into the room. Her heart was pounding and yet she couldn't quite figure out why. She looked up at the young prince who lay sprawled out on his stomach on the vast bed that lay in the center of the room. It was even bigger than her bed she had at home, she noticed. He was reading a book, she could see, and thought now that perhaps she'd better just leave him to it. He would probably be angry enough with her as it was, (though, inside she knew she was simply making excuses so she would not have to do this). As she turned to go his soft voice spoke from behind her, "Why did you just come in here?"  
  
She turned. His back was still to her and he slowly turned a page of the book. She stood there a moment amid the awkward silence before summoning up all the courage she could muster, (or, perhaps all the humility she had) and said,  
  
"I-I came to apologize," she stumbled, "for snapping at you like that."  
  
"And so you should," he answered coolly, not yet turning.  
  
"I really don't hate you that much, you just angered me, that's all," she said. He didn't answer for a moment. She could hear him reading under his breath and she began to grow angry with him once again, wondering if he was even listening to her. However, she reminded herself that getting angry and impatient would only start this whole thing over again, and she certainly did not want to do this a second time.  
  
He slowly turned another page in his massive book before saying, "If I was in the situation where I had to complete one task, any task, and do it well else I be slain I would choose angering you, my Lady, for it is the easiest task I can possibly come up with." This took Arwen quite by surprise and she stood there a moment, not knowing how to respond. She was about to become angry again but before she could, laughter bubbled up from within her and came flowing from her lips. She laughed and laughed and laughed. She wasn't sure why she found what he'd just said so funny, but somehow she did.  
  
Now Legolas turned and faced her. His piercing eyes stared at her a moment, baffled. This was the last thing he'd expected from her. He thought for sure that she was going to come up from behind him and slap him upside the head.  
  
"You have quite the sense of humour, my Lord," she said then, once she had somewhat regained her composure, "a pity I didn't realize it before!" Now Legolas was completely and utterly confused. Relieved, yes, but confused. A smile slowly spread itself across his face then, and he too, began to laugh. Rising from his place on the bed he stood and faced her.  
  
"I see you aren't angry with me, anymore," he told her, laughter still hanging in his voice, "for this I am greatly relieved. I apologize for offending you, my Lady." Arwen smiled.  
  
"It's alright, my Lord, you can just call me Arwen."  
  
"Only if you call me Legolas," he replied.  
  
"It's a deal then," she said happily. She looked past him to the bed then and focused on the book. "What's that?" she asked.  
  
"Oh, that's the story of the Great War against Sauron," Legolas answered, "do you know of the Great War?"  
  
"Yes, yes I know," she replied, "my father fought in it after all."  
  
"Oh yes! Of course! How could I forget?" he exclaimed, "I was indeed really excited to meet your father, him being such a warrior as he is." Arwen blushed and smiled. She was proud of her father.  
  
"I'm sure your father is a great warrior as well," she answered. Legolas smiled slightly.  
  
"Yes, he is a warrior. I only wish I was a warrior as well."  
  
"You cannot expect to become a warrior that fast!" Arwen said suddenly, "you're only ten!" Legolas shot a glare in her direction.  
  
"I can become a warrior! My father even said so!" he cried defensively.  
  
"Well, of course you can, just not now," she said matter-of-factly.  
  
"I can so! What would a maiden know of such things?" he shouted, leaping off the bed to stand tall beside it. Arwen got up uneasily, then fixed her eyes on his. Though, she admitted, his stare was formidable.  
  
"Plenty!" she shouted back, "just because I am a maiden does not make me weak! I could beat you any day in a fighting match!"  
  
"Fine! If you're so strong, prove it!" he shouted back at her, "you want to fight me? Let's go!" Arwen was taken aback.  
  
"What? Here? Now?"  
  
"Yes, why not? Are you afraid, my Lady?"  
  
"No! It's just that, well, what if we break something?"  
  
"What if we break something?" he repeated her mockingly, "you are afraid, admit it! I don't care if I break something! I break things all my life!"  
  
"I'd believe that," Arwen thought to herself, beginning to fume. "Fine!" she shouted back then, "you want to fight? Then come on! I do not fear you! I do not fear anyone!" And with that she set herself in a traditional ready stance that most young elven fighters would set themselves in before a match. Her left foot was extended, her toes pointing toward him. Her right leg was bent dramatically so that her body sat low to the ground, her torso only a foot or so from the floor. She set her hands out in front of her in a defensive fashion, shielding her face and torso from an oncoming attack.  
  
Legolas was taken aback by Arwen's ferocity. Her once soft violet eyes were now hard as rocks and flaming with anger. Her face was set and she did not look afraid at all. The young prince truly believed from then on that she really did not fear anything, that she really did not fear anyone, and that she really would go to the ends of the earth just to prove herself worthy. He was scared of her then for a moment, but he gathered his courage and set himself in a similar stance, determined to prove himself against this girl.  
  
She looked at him hard then for a moment. His flawless face was grim and set. His icy blue eyes were fixed on hers, unblinking, unwavering. She fixed her eyes on his just as he had on hers and adopted the same determined set.  
  
She made the first move. Shifting her weight from her right foot to her left she let a high kick fly for his face with her right foot all in one smooth motion. He leapt back from the attack smoothly and quickly fell to the ground in a drop kick. She felt her legs swept from under her and found herself on her back. Legolas smiled, thinking her defeated, but just as quickly she leapt directly from her back to her feet. She spun and let a punch fly aimed for his jaw. She did not miss. He clutched his jaw for a moment but quickly recuperated as she lunged at him a second time. He raised his arm to block the following punch that came flying at him. Back and forth across the room they went. Legs shoulder-width apart, moving in long, fluent strides. Punch after punch flew and block after block stopped them. None of the attacks hit their opponent and after a while, Legolas tired of this same routine. He decided a change was necessary. He took a step backward and the thought that he was afraid crossed Arwen's mind. However, that thought quickly evaporated as Legolas back-flipped from her and took up that same ready stance. She was taken off guard for a moment at this unexpected skilled move, but that didn't faze her for long. She half- turned twice and let a right kick fly once more. She wasn't quite fast enough. He snatched her foot and flipped her onto her back. She lay stunned for a moment, in which she heard his voice declare triumphantly,  
  
"You fought well, my Lady, but I fear you are defeated."  
  
"Not yet," she uttered under her breath just loud enough for him to hear. She flicked her legs up and brought them down fast bringing her to her feet. This, too, was an advanced move. It also gave her the advantage: her legs came down so fast Legolas did not see them. They came down right on his head, bringing him to his knees. She smiled triumphantly but he dashed her hopes as he rolled out of the way of another oncoming attack and leapt to his feet just as fast.  
  
They now found themselves facing each other. Legolas' jaw was now turning black and blue from Arwen's first punch and his head pounded. Arwen's back and bottom were so sore she was certain that they were bruised. However, despite these attacks they were still just as determined to win, just as determined to beat the other down.  
  
Legolas spun quickly then and let his own kick fly. Arwen blocked it and threw a punch with her right, making to hit his jaw once more. Just as fast, though, she saw his own fist flying for her face and something made her stop just short of her target. She immediately regretted it as she saw his powerful fist nearing her face. She screwed her eyes shut and winced against the oncoming blow.  
  
It never came. Slowly and cautiously she opened her eyes. His fist, too, had stopped short of her face. Both were now staring dumbfounded at the other's fist, neither knowing why they had stopped short. Something inside of them had told them to.  
  
They stood there motionless for a moment, neither speaking.  
  
"I guess we are both equally matched," Arwen spoke at last.  
  
"Yes, I suppose so," Legolas agreed. He saw no point in continuing. They were equally matched and equally skilled. There would only be a victor when one or the other tired and lost out because of exhaustion. He had been taught that this was never a true victory and he did not desire to win this way, let alone lose. They let their arms fall to their sides and faced each other again.  
  
"Would you like to call a draw?" Arwen asked, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth at the thought of this prince considering her an equal. Legolas paused.  
  
"Yes," he answered, "I would."  
  
"So, we're even then?" she inquired further.  
  
"Yes, Arwen," the prince answered back, "we are." They paused another moment.  
  
"Your lip is bleeding," Arwen told him then, gesturing toward his mouth, "sorry about that." He raised his hand to his face and brushed his lip. He glanced at his fingers and saw that there was blood on them. She thought then for a moment that he would grow angry again, but he simply laughed as though it was nothing, and she admired this, even though she really didn't want to admire anything about him.  
  
"It's alright," he answered back, "all is forgotten and forgiven now." Arwen was surprised at this response as well. How anyone could forget a bloody lip intentionally given that fast she did not know. But she smiled at him anyway and said the least thing she had expected to say in the world,  
  
"You fight good."  
  
*Author's Note: Hey, sorry that chapter was a little long. I got a bit carried away.^.^ anyway, what do you think so far? That's the first fight scene I've ever written and I wasn't originally going to put it in but in the end I kind of wanted to include it because the story ended up flowing a little too fast otherwise (and to slip in a bit of elvish fighting ability.~.^). Chapter 8 is coming soon, I promise! 


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